Monday, June 10, 2013

Phil Specht ~~ Our
fishing camp had "morning meditations" of poetry this year and William
Carlos Williams was a feature one morning. Sent me on a Frost jag since
(who knows why?) and this story brought A White Tailed Hornet to mind...
part of the last stanza since the hornet got it wrong That really takes away instead of gives.

About Me

Water gathering
most days I wait
through blue and sun
till dusk
or even later
and the rose has faded
to lavender, to gray
some days, the sleet
has started
and the leaves underfoot
are slick with ice
somehow I'm never sorry
and never learn
one night I waited
till the stars were out
dropped the bucket into
sound, only felt the weight
of it filling
and the night full of stars
and the river full of stars
and the bucket full of stars
come morning, the coffee
is also full of stars